


Imprint (Mercy76)

by Xavirne



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, Mercy76, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xavirne/pseuds/Xavirne
Summary: Someone on Tumblr reminded me to step away from the stress and go-go-go of my life. To just relax and take in the music around me. Found a playlist that really put me in the mood so here's a long overdue Mercy76 fic! I hope you all enjoy.





	Imprint (Mercy76)

The world around him was muffled. He could feel a lump forming in the back of his throat as he drew ever-closer to the looming building before him. It was state-of-the-art. Home of the best of the best.

Too bad he didn't get the memo that "best of the best" would require the ability to speak and understand German.

His chauffeur didn't know a lick of English. He seemed friendly but whenever Jack asked him a question, the male would just laugh and reply in what Jack assumed to be... well, honestly he had no idea. It was too fast and too slurred for him to even register as a language. Sounded more like rapid-fire baby gibberish!

Honestly, he wasn't sure why he was being sent over now. The building was still under construction and no one he knew was even stationed in the area. So what if he was the rising star of Overwatch? So what if he was good at everything he did? It didn't mean he was  _always_  paying attention, especially when his superiors asked if he wanted to oversee the build of the Swiss HQ!

He was given 24 hours to pack and get on a plane. And in that 24-hours, Jack went to say his goodbyes to his parents. Ma baked him his favorite pie and while she was cleaning up the dishes, he and his old man kicked back a few beers while discussing Jack's lack of romance. The whole " _ya know your ma and I ain't getting any younger... ever think about having us some grand kids?_ " thing. Yeah, Jack's  _least_  favorite kind of talks.

He chucked while thinking back to the way his ears burned and his cheeks went red. Boy what he would give to go back to that moment. Embarrassing as it was, at least it was familiar. It was home.

It wasn't his first time traveling overseas but it was his first time in a country whose first language wasn't some form of broken English or phrases he could fumble through.

As the chauffeur lead him up to the assumed front door, he dropped the bags and held out his hand. Unsure what protocol was, he dropped a wad of money in the man's hand before picking up his gear. The backpack went over his shoulder while the luggage was wheeled across the debris-littered sidewalk.

_Benutze die..._  the rest looked like it had been washed away with rain.

"Well what the heck does that mean?" His brows furrowed as he leaned into the sign that was slapped on the door before him. "Die usually doesn't have the best connotation... so," his free hand racked across his blonde locks, " _sooooooo..._ " A grim looked crossed his face.

For a good few minutes, he stared intensely at that sign. "Whelp, I tried!" Abruptly pivoting on his heels, he did a 180 and stepped forward.

_"Oof!"_  the air hissed from behind his teeth as he ran full-force into a rather sturdy object. Had he seriously just run into the lamp post? His mind immediately went to 'the best of the best.'  _Uh-huh, sure._

Shaking off the effects of the collide, he looked forward so he could properly side-step the lamp post. Only, when he didn't see anything, his brow cocked. If it wasn't a lamp post, then... his eyes drifted down.

"OH MY GOD!" He thought nothing of the contents of his backpack (i.e. the laptop) and tossed it to the side. Swooping down, he extended his hand to the blonde who was seated with her legs sprawled awkwardly on the pavement. She seemed preoccupied though, looking at the blood that was slowly seeping out from the grooves on her palm.

"I am so sorry," the words burst from his mouth.

"Keine Bange (Do not worry)!" There was a pureness to her voice as she spoke to him, as if she wasn't upset that he had completely run into her. Her chin lifted, allowing her captivating blue orbs to meet his. Her fluidity and actions were graceful, almost angelic. It was love at first sight for Jack.

Brushing her injured palm against her black leggings, she glanced once more at her palm before excepting his hand. As he pulled her to his feet, she couldn't help but catch his staring.

Smitten, love-drunk, whatever people call it these days was plastered all over his face.

"Du hast Glück, dass du attraktiv bist (You are lucky that you are attractive!)," she winked before readjusting her rusty-orange skirt. She ruffled the edges before her hands went up to smooth out the black fabric that formed her top. She spent a little extra time pulling the material down along her curves.

Wordless, Jack just stared at the woman before him. She was absolutely beautiful and acted as if he didn't just run into her. If anything, she seemed to be seducing him, especially with those deliberate, slow moves.

"Kann ich Dir helfen (May I help you)?" The way she blinked made it look like her eyes were flirting with him. Had he been less... well, attractive, she might have been using a different tone with him. But she was a sucker for a pretty face. Plus, it was fun to mess with people from time to time.

The gears finally started to turn that she was talking to him. Grimacing, Jack shrugged before patting himself down in search of his phone. When he finally found it, it pulled out Google translate.

| Sorry, I don't speak English. - Entschuldigung, ich spreche kein Englisch. |

She glanced at the phone before suppressing a chuckle. He was a precious idiot.

Brows furrowing, he looked down and immediately noticed his error.

| I mean I do speak English! - Ich meine, ich spreche Englisch !|

"You're a funny man," there was a softness to the way she spoke in his native tongue.

" _W-wait_ ," his words seemed to be trapped behind his teeth. Flustered and reddening with each passing second, Jack desperately wished to start this whole conversation over again. He was a bumbling idiot, which was the complete opposite of the persona he had worked so hard to create, especially in the eye of Overwatch.

"Yes," she nodded, "I too can speak English. Perhaps better than you as I don't error when I type." She playfully bumped her shoulder against his. "I must thank you for slamming into me so roughly. You are fun to play with."

It didn't seem possible, but his face went even redder.

Blinking, the woman stepped back. "Pardon, did I error in my wording?" Her demeanor shifted some, giving way to her vulnerable side. It appeared that she too didn't like to make mistakes in front of others. " _Please_ ," her hands wrapped around his. Her skin was soft yet cool, the complete opposite of his. "You must teach me what I did wrong!"

For a brief moment, the two just looked into each others eyes without exchanging a word. Then, almost as if on cue, his lips spread to the side.

"Jack Morrison." He could feel her hand tremble as he said his name.

"Angela Ziegler." Her voice was a whisper as her cheeks flushed a rosy pink.

"Slamming into me so roughly." There was a charming undertone to the way he said those words so much so that she swooned at the connotation his tone seemed to imply.

_"Oh my,"_  Angela said breathlessly. "Well when you say it like that-"

"It  _might_  get you into trouble," he finished for her.

"Coming from the man who was so worried about me that he tossed his laptop to the side. Yeah," she scoffed, "I don't think I have much to worry about." Her shoulders arched back, pushing her chest forward more. It was intentional, that much Jack was sure of. "So, Morris-"

"Jack," he interrupted.

" _Jack_ ," she liked the way that sounded. "May I help you with anything?"

A light chuckle followed. "You know," he stepped away from her to collect (with a wince!) his backpack with the computer. "You're lucky I'm not my friend, Gabriel."

"Hmmm?" Her hum was soothing. "Why is that?"

"Slamming so roughly. Fun to play with," he teased before motioning his head toward the sign on the door.

"You mean me? Or the door?" Her tongue poked out from behind her lips. It was fun toying with him and watching him squirm.

"Wait," he looked over at the sign. "Does die really mean die?!"

Angela started to laugh. "No, no, no. It is telling you to use a different door. This one is off limits because they just painted the floor. Can't have y-"

Before she could even finish, he was grabbing her fingers between his own and forcing their way in the front door.

"But the floor is wet!" she exclaimed.

"Like that should stop us from making our mark on the world."

Her hand went limp at his comment. Was it possible...?

"I know who you are Miss Ziegler."

She expected him to say 'my future wife' just like everyone else did.

"A brilliant scientist and the most gifted doctor in the world. Overwatch is lucky to have you." With that, he extended his hand, inviting her to scuff up the paint with him.

He did know!

Blinking back the tears, a wicked grin grew across her face. If she was being honest with herself, 'my future wife' didn't seem like such a bad idea, especially when it came to this man. Fingertips brushing, she took that leap of faith forward.

" _Together_ ," Angela released her hand to let it fall against his taut chest, "let us change the world."

Smiles on their faces, they shifted their boots forward and left their imprint.

"I look forward to that future." His sapphire orbs fell endearingly on her.

"As do I," she whispered while looking at him with just as much sedated passion.


End file.
